


to ask for help (and then to receive it)

by Elzie (gallaxygay)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gay Keith (Voltron), Homesick Lance (Voltron), Hurt Lance (Voltron), Langst, M/M, POV Keith (Voltron), Pining Keith (Voltron), pre-klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 17:25:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13792545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallaxygay/pseuds/Elzie
Summary: He sits on the floor of the observatory, resolving to wait until Lance is either okay enough to start speaking again or tired enough to sleep.-A tiny story about Lance and Keith and two sleepy nights. In which Keith is supportive and Lance just needs some company.





	to ask for help (and then to receive it)

**Author's Note:**

> hey !! thanks for reading, feel free to leave a comment if ya liked it or if you have any ideas for the future (i'm still pretty new to fic-writing!)

Side by side, Lance and Keith exist - and it doesn't feel so bad.

Lance doesn't acknowledge Keith for nearly an hour, and Keith doesn't push him. He thinks that although Lance has many secrets and many faces and all of his walls up and on guard tonight, he understands the way that he's feeling right now - and if he has it all understood right then pushing Lance to speak would do more harm than good. So Keith doesn't. He sits on the floor of the observatory, resolving to wait until Lance is either okay enough to start speaking again or tired enough to sleep.

Keith knows the feeling. He knows not wanting to talk. He knows, he thinks, but he doesn't understand fully because Lance loves to talk, loves the chatter. So this is different. Keith doesn't expect to know what to do, but a very helpless feeling makes itself known in the pit of his stomach. It's unexpected, and it makes him feel sick.

Lance doesn't speak to Keith that night at all. Keith doesn't mind, not particularly and not anymore than what it means for Lance's mental state. But he finds relief from the stifling air of the night when after an hour of silence Lance shuffles closer, linking their hands without a word. Keith's breath catches, but he doesn't flinch or pull back. His heart pulls at the small sigh that leaves Lance, something so relieved and so small and so quiet that Keith nearly misses it. Lance is so warm and soft and he doesn't deserve whatever plagues him so relentlessly that he's given up on sleep. When Lance falls asleep on Keith's shoulder, hand in hand, the small crease between his eyebrows finally disappears. Keith counts it as a win - just for the night.

\--

In the morning they don't talk about it but that doesn't stop Pidge from snickering behind her hands at breakfast. Nor does it stop the twinkle in Hunk's eyes, or the way that Shiro elbows Keith on their way to the kitchen.

(Keith's ears burn. Especially when Lance sits beside him, as though he'd always sat in that spot - as though he'd always made a point of being close to Keith. His fingers twitch at the thought of last night - of how Lance had grabbed his hands so casually, and how he was so soft and warm and _sad._ )

Lance has his smile on again. It makes Keith's stomach twist uncomfortably, but he doesn't say anything. He won't go out of his way to ruin whatever Lance has going on - not when he's so clearly entertaining the table and himself. Not until Lance decides to send a friendly jab his way, then he'll play along.

Idly, Keith wonders what time Lance gets up in the morning. He considers himself a fairly early riser, but Lance had been gone before he had even thought to look for him.

Lance elbows him in the side lightly. With a wink and a grin he asks, "You alright, mullet?" 

Keith had to close his eyes and take a very, very deep breath before he's able to look at Lance properly again. In his peripheral he sees Pidge grinning, whispering something to Hunk. The two of them watch the interaction with gleaming eyes. Instead of answering anything concrete (he's afraid that if he says anything else he'll never hear the end of it), he pushes his bowl back. "Wanna spar?" 

"Oh," Lance's face smooths out in shock before an easy grin overtakes his features. "Right now?"

\--

After forty-three minutes of trying to sleep, Keith hears a soft knock on his door. It's quiet, and if he had been any closer to sleep than he was forty-three minutes ago, he probably would have missed it. 

It's shocking to see Lance, that night. Lance had been...well he hadn't been bad during the day. And Keith doesn't know how to read people, doesn't really understand those cues that people like Lance seem to see everywhere - but he had seen how excited Lance had been to spar. He had seen Lance joking with the team. And it's not because Keith hadn't been expecting him (he had) but because he hadn't been expecting him to look so wrecked. Red eyes and messy hair, Lance stands in his doorway looking like he's barely holding back tears.

Keith breathes out harshly, hands moving to touch - to hold - to help, "Shit, Lance," he says. "Shit."

Lance nods miserably, eyes shiny with unshed tears. He's leaning against Keith's door frame looking like he'd love nothing more than to shrink away into the darkness of the castle's hallways. He doesn't though, which is a move that's braver than Keith would have given him credit for - even a few weeks ago.

"Jesus Christ I don't know what I- I'm sorry," Lances rushes out, bring up his hands to rub hard at his eyes. "God Keith, I'm so fucking sorry I don't know why I keep waking you up in the middle of the night, Christ, I-I'm really, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking." Lance's speech leaves him looking breathless and disorientated, like he feels he should leave but desperately wants to stay - to find comfort in the sort of quiet that Keith offers.

Keith doesn't know what to do, so he does what he can, which is stepping back from the door frame and gesturing to his bed. He doesn't know what he means to say and doesn't know what Lance will take away from it but last time Lance held his hand and -

Lance lets out a strangled laugh, eyes darting back and forth between Keith and his bed. He runs a hand through his hair nervously and ah, okay - that's why his hair is so mussed. A nervous habit, Keith thinks.

Lance looks unsure, a small frown tugging at the edges of his mouth. He says, "I'm - okay, I know, Keith, yeah I know we communicate differently, okay. I know that but bud," he laughs nervously again. "But I need words here, Keith."

Keith blinks, surprised at Lance's candor. He says a little breathlessly, "You can stay, Lance. Just stay for tonight, bud?"

Lance's eyes sparkle and a small, genuine smile makes its way onto his face, and then he's crying big heaving sobs against Keith's shoulder. Keith guides him gently down to his bed, and waits until Lance is okay again. He still doesn't know what to do. Still doesn't know why or what has Lance so broken up and beaten down on the inside. And

"I think," mumbles Lance. "I think that I need some help."

Keith hums. "That's alright." 

"Okay." 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, okay."

 


End file.
